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WRITTEN IN SAND 

BY 

GEORGE BANCROFT DUREN 



New York 

Tobias A. Wright 

1921 






COPYRIGHT, 1921 
GEORGE BANCROFT DUREN 



fB 16 1921 



CI.A605777 



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TO MY MOTHER 



THANKS ARE DUE TO THE EDITORS OF THE 
BOSTON TRANSCRIPT, NEWARK EVENING NEWS, 
NEWARK SUNDAY LEDGER AND NEWARK SUNDAY 
CALL FOR THEIR KIND PERMISSION TO REPRINT 
SOME OF THE VERSES CONTAINED HEREIN 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTERS 

I In the Mirror of Yesterday . . 9 to 42 

II Peace and War . . . . . 43 to 51 

III Spring and Winter . . . . 53 to 56 



In the Mirror of Yesterday 



WRITTEN IN SAND 

It was in yesteryear 

I watched you trace 

Our names upon the sand, 

Framing them with a heart of sea-foam lace 

That dancing waves had cast upon the strand. 

You laughed and in your eyes 

Shone a rich light 

That dimmed the starry wonder of the skies 

And warmed the night. 

Many waves have washed that shore since then 
Other hands have formed the names of men 
Upon those gleaming sands. 
And each has vanished when the sea rolled in. 

So our names, too, are gone from view ! 
Caressing waves have carried them away 
Just as the surge of time has carried you. 
And all that I have left 
Is like our symbol on that faithless shore: 
A poignant memory — and nothing more. 



II 



AN INCENSE JAR AT DUSK 

A small bronze incense jar 

With dragon face and weird magenta eyes, 
Brought from a land afar 

Where cherry blossoms vie with cherry skies. 

The fragrant dust is lit 

And like an opening rose the flame awakes 
As dreamily I sit 

To breathe the drowsy perfume that it makes. 

It brings a poppy sleep, 

As on the gathering haze I build my dream. 
Where ancient willows weep 

And moonbeams are embroidered on the stream. 

Trees crooning on the hill. 

While from the shadowed woods the answering 
note 
Of hidden woodland rill, 

Chanting a love-song from its silvery throat. 

The dying flames grow cold, 

And only scattered incense clouds remain. 
I waken tired and old 

To find that I have idly dreamed again. 



12 



THE HOUSE UPON THE HILL 

Upon its emerald throne like some proud queen 
Guarded by courtier pines in stately row, 

The House Upon the Hill, with august mien, 
Looked down upon the winding road below. 

Strangers who trod the dusty, burning road 

Looked up and stopped and to each other said : 
"Great happiness must dwell in that abode. 
'There hope and peace must surely make their bed. 

"Is there no joy for us of humble birth? 

Why must we sow to harvest only pain?" 
And lifting up their burdens from the earth 

They turned away and sought the road again. 

Blind souls — they only saw the painted shell 
Unhappiness had built to hide its lair : 

To them it was a place for love to dwell. 

How should they know deep sorrow lingered 
there ? 

What seemed to them soft music of the trees 

Was but the wind's grufT voice in mocking jeers: 

They pictured flowers nodding in the breeze 

But could not see their sad eyes dimmed with 
tears. 

Thus each who passed looked up and reasoned so, 
And wished that he might dwell in such a spot, 

Unknowing that within the dust below 
He was possessor of a happier lot. 



13 



EAGLE ROCK AT NIGHT 

Night lay like a black robe of silk 
Tucked in about the far earth rim, 
Stars that bedecked its endless folds 
Were diamonds from the crown of Him 
Whose loving hands had clustered them 
In an eternal diadem. 

Far as the vision could command 
The warm, appealing lights of home 
Shone like the soft reflected rays 
Of stars in that majestic dome. 
They twinkled with a witching light, 
Then vanished one by one from sight 
To join the dark hosts of the night. 

Once a laboring furnace 

Gushed molten breath into the sky, 

Its blood rays rose into the drifting clouds 

Staining their saintly white with crimson dye : 

Rudely a whistle broke the tranquil still 

As, like a winding phosphorescent snake, 

A train crept slowly by. 

A church bell tolled the end of evensong 
And one could almost hear the sweet-voiced choir 
Answer a soft amen to the rich notes 
Reverberating from the ancient spire. 
'Way in the east the lofty gleaming lights 
Of a great city marked an unseen sea : 
Two steel shafts set with many thousand eyes 
^ Vied with the beacon light of Liberty. 



14 



O glorious night, I will remember long 
Your witchery, 

Your silence and the gift of quiet peace 
You brought to me. 



A BOOK OF MEMORIES 

jOf all my treasured books 
A dusty, faded one I love the best: 
Its name is Memories 
And in its pages, only, I find rest. 

Slowly I turn each leaf 

To read again the fond tales written there, 

Wander the bygone paths, 

Relight old stars in midnight's dusky hair. 

Its title page is decked 

With violets we gathered long ago. 

While on each aging sheet 

Are living sprigs of old-time mistletoe: 

Fragrance of other springs. 

The haunting touch of soft, adoring hands, 

Moons that died yesterday, 

A glint of Stardust on forgotten sands. 

No other book has charm 

Enough to hold my weary heart-strings fast, 

For there can be no tales 

As sweet as those love bound within the past. 



15 



HALLOWE'EN 

From catacombs laid low in dust 

Where green-eyed spiders sleep, 

From marshes where gaunt cat-tails each 

Their lonely vigil keep, 

From heart of forest, depth of lake, 

Beyond the edge of light 

Weird witches and their kindred folk 

Come trooping forth tonight. 

Down through a royal arch of trees 

In homage bending low, 

Across a meadow's emerald stretch 

The gay paraders go. 

Until at last in strange array 

They reach a field of corn. 

There to disport in phantom style 

Until the birth of morn. 

Their leader waves a magic wand 
And like a sword unsheathed, 
The sere and dusty stalks of corn 
With silver sheen are wreathed: 
And Stardust falling on the shocks 
Wraps them in mantle white : 
They stand like bearded sentinels 
Against the rim of night. 

A tall pine with pretentious mien 

Begins a baton sway. 

While martial notes of rustling leaves 

Announce the roundelay: 

As dancers rise, clasp hands and whirl 

Into the music's swell, 

i6 



These ghostly masqueraders play 
Beneath the fall moon's spell. 

And pumpkins with long slanting eyes, 

Like captive stars aglow, 

Rise from the dust and slowly wave 

Their green arms to and fro. 

So through the night while others sleep 

The mad dance holds its sway 

Until the first shy kiss of sun 

Warns of the coming day. 



A CHILD'S PRAYER 

God make me like the sun 

To rise each morning with a smiling face. 

And as the day goes by 

Help me to leave warm sunbeams every place, 

Till shadows softly fall 

And on the wings of night I drift away 

Still radiant to think 

That I may wake with smiles the coming day. 



17 



THE SHOWER 

Murmuring, rustling through the trees 

The gentle shower came, 

Until it reached the calm lake shore 

And mottled the green that its bosom wore 

With dancing drops of cool, fresh rain 

That pitter-pattered a sweet refrain: 

With a song in its heart the shower came. 

And a song was in the heart of me, 
And a song in the heart of you, 
As we nosed our boat in the muddy bank 
And laughed as the stony anchor sank 
— For I was in love with you. 

You did not care for the rain that fell, 
For an oak tree sheltered our small boat well 
And the few cool drops that wet your hair 
Commingled with the fragrance there. 
One drop to your lips in a rambling streak 
I brushed away with my own rough cheek; 
Brushed it away, but held the place 
Close to your delicate, warm, sweet face. 

And together we sat while the shower fell, 
Cheek close to cheek — carefree — 
Not heeding when the storm went by 
And the sun beamed forth in a cloudless sky. 
So sweet was the song in the heart of you 
And the song in the heart of me. 



i8 



IT WAS IN SPRIN,GTIME 

It was in springtime : 

Spring with its breath of new-born flowers, 

Dawning of our wondrous hours 

When we clambered the rocks together. 

The sea lay at our feet 

Whispering among the shells and crevices, 

Or lifting now and then a foam-crowned head 

Up from its kelp-trimmed bed 

As if to say : 

"Come — I'll not harm you — come and play!" 

And then rolled back into its vast retreat. 

It was the time of roses, 

Roses that opened to the smiles of morn 

To dream amid sweet fragrance through the night. 

And, Oh ! our hearts were light 

As gulls we watched wing through the sky 

In tireless flight. 

Now spring is here again 
And the sea is calling: 
"Come play with me. 
Match your music laughter 
With my silvery melody." 

Hark, the sea is calling! 

But only the echo, softly falling, 

Of another springtime 

Answers. 



19 



DEATH OF SUMMER 

Shadows are lengthening across the sky, 
And trees have doffed their frocks of youthful green 
For robes of richer hue, while in between 
The clustered stars an opal moon gleams high 
Above the woods where sleeping violets lie 
Tucked in their leafy beds ; the winds are keen 
With earthy smells, and everywhere are seen 
The last gifts of a summer soon to die. 

Death ! Yet how unlike other ends this one. 
With tenderness old summer decks each tree 
In brightest raiment, and with fragrant breath, 
Whispering softly that her life is done, 
She gently falls asleep : we hardly see 
That she has gone, so beautiful her death. 



20 



THE RETURNING 

I wandered at the fall of dusk, alone. 

The stars were dull, the moon's face hewn of stone, 

Gruff was the wind — lost was its melody 

For you had gone from me. 

Then you came back. The moon upon the road 
Transformed the muddy ruts to silvery bars, 
Lightly the wind awoke the leaves to song 
And tears gleamed in the soft eyes of the stars. 

So has it been, so shall it always be 
When you, my love, return again to me. 



21 



JUST DREAMING 

Dearest, it is your face that comes to me 

In those sweet moments when I idly dream 

Of youth, and happiness, and things that seem 

To seal within them love's eternity : 

And like the sound of a soft melody 

Or murmuring echo of some plaintive stream, 

Whose silvery ripples mate with each moonbeam, 

I hear your voice so happy and carefree. 

What an exquisite joy my heart would know 
If you might cease to be a memory, 
And come again to bring my dreamings true, 
That loving you I might live ever so 
Finding full happiness in serving thee 
And worshipping forever none but you. 



22 



OLD LOVES 

Deep within my heart are sealed 
All the things I loved with you : 
Shattered hopes and songs half sung 
And the dreams that ne'er came true. 

As a rose jar filled with blooms 
We both gathered in the May, 
So my heart is fragrant with 
Petals of our yesterday. 

Tenderly I breathe the dust 
And the perfumed memories there 
Fill me with the strangely sad 
Peacefulness that follows prayer. 

Things we love — each one comes back- 
Breath of half forgotten springs, 
Songs of soaring birds that bore 
Blue of Heaven on their wings. 

Stars that only we could see. 
Moons that smiled for us alone. 
Laughing winds, the wild brook's rune, 
Trees upon their mountain throne. 

Things we loved — all have passed by 
Just as you have gone from me. 
Yet I keep them sweet and dear 
In my vase of memory. 



23 



ST. FRANCIS XAVIER'S 

(The priest returns to find his 
house of worship a smoking ruin.) 

Where but so short a while before had stood 

The modest church in sacred silentness, 

Now ruins with their grim and blackened dress 

Bear the unhappy sign of widowhood: 

Smoke circles from a small charred cross of wood 

While altar cloths, strewn with the carelessness 

Of entrails from the sacrifice express 

A sadness that no other ruin could. 

Slowly the priest draws near God's house of prayer 

With eyes that tell what lips refuse to speak. 

A curious crowd breaks way to let him by 

For in his face has come a great despair 

As if his hopes had turned as sere and bleak 

As that scarred cross mute pointing towards the sky. 



24 



TRIBUTE 

(To the memory of my Grandfather) 

Spun like a thread that feeds a weaver's loom 

Until at last the toiler's task is done, 

So was his life a splendid tapestry 

Of priceless faith and friendship he had won. 



25 



JINNY 

(Eight years old) 

Peacefully in sleep she lay, 
The still, bronze curls in disarray 
Fell 'round her face like the last ray 
Of sunshine at the sleep of day. 

Spun like a fan of cobweb lawn 
Her lashes tenderly were drawn 
Like guards before her soft blue eyes, 
Unfathomed as warm summer skies. 

In reverence I bent and pressed 
My lips against the hands at rest 
As two rose petals on her breast. 

She stirred with sweet unknowing grace 
And soft curls wandered from their place 
Hiding the glory of her face. 

So with a tenderness divine 

I tiptoed from my childhood shrine. 



26 



PARTING 

Up from the lap of the peaceful slumbering ocean, 
Into the void of a stadess, all-patient heaven, 
Turning the sea foam into a silvery cobweb 
A soft moon wandered. 

Deep in the west, warming the earth with a last 

sweet smile of contentment, 
A coral sun shed pastel peace in its setting, 
Gathering day to a gentle close with its splendor. 

So came the sorrowful hour that looked on our 

parting; 
And the moon and the sun and the sea and you 

together 
Were one in the sadness of leaving. 

Then into the arms of night, with a white moon 

guiding, 
I rode away — leaving you standing alone in the 

flickering daylight: 
You and the setting sun and our golden moments. 



27 



SHADOWS AMONG THE SHADOWS 

Noiselessly our canoe, like an idle water bug, 

Drifted upon the silver-inlaid waters. 

Before us the mountain humped its back against a 

canopy of stars 
While at its foot two breathing shadows listened. 

Then a paddle slipped from the gunwale. 

Waking night's silence as it smacked the sleeping 

waters : 
And two does, lifting dripping mouths in timid 

wonder. 
Melted into the mystery of the mountain. 



28 



COBWEBS 

Life is like a cobweb : 

And we the spiders toiling at the rapid looms of 

time, 
Weave steadily life's tapestry with a rich thread of 

years, 
Binding the strands of passing days together as we 

climb 
Up to the cobweb's summit through the sparkling 
* dew of tears. 

So with the spider when October comes. 
Turning each green leaf to a rattling husk, 
We find the finished cobweb hanging there 
Deserted in the melancholy dusk. 

Life has its grim October, too. 

And when it calls we each must leave behind 

The cobweb of whatever life we spun 

So those to come may test its mesh and find 

Our character by what the loom has done. 



29 



LOVE AND I 

I have a trysting place with love : 

No, not where surging sea 

Lashes the barnacle-covered crags 

And whips the seaweed like wind-tossed flags 

As it strains to set it free. 

Nor do we meet 

Where the candle stars 

Blink as the clouds sail by 

And the faithful moon from ivory hewn 

Hangs sleeping in the sky. 

But deep in the sanctum of my heart 
Where silence and peace find place: 
There love and I are truly one, 
For that is our trysting place. 



30 



STARTLED 

A rosebud and a violet 
Both in a Grecian vase 
Were ardently a-wooing 
In modest flower ways. 

The violet demurely 
Touched light the rosebud's cheek 
And nestled 'neath its petals 
For honeyed lips to seek. 

They kissed — and quickly parted 
As startled lovers do, 
For a peeping beam of sunlight 
Had seen the kissing too. 



31 



MESSAGE OF THE ROSE 

Plucking the first unfolded rose 
That bloomed within my garden close, 
I kissed its petals wet with dew 
And gave the lip-warm bud to you, 
Who, smelling it, seemed unaware. 
Of tender kisses hidden there. 

You did not tell me that you knew 
The bud had brought my love to you. 
And yet the blush that warmed your cheek 
Showed that the rose had dared to speak 
Those tender words that I, afraid, 
Upon its petal lips had laid. 



32 



THE PATHS OF THE USED-TO-BE 

The quaint old things of yesterday- 
Are but a few short steps away : 
At the foot of the hill in a quiet vale 
They are waiting to whisper some old-time tale. 

The quaint old things of yesterday 

Still linger ere they pass away, 

And so we may freshen their memory 

If we follow the paths of the used-to-be. . 

And the paths of the used-to-be are these: 
A roadway cloistered 'round with trees, 
A homestead, brown and ivy grown, 
Still shadow oaks that stand alone 
Like sentinels to guard the way; 
These are the things of yesterday. 



33 



A SONG 

My heart is aflame with song, 

Crystal clear and healing as organ notes 

That creep through an incensed cloister 

And out of a sainted window 

To life everlasting. 

My heart is running riot with music, 

Soft and as yet unborn to the world 

As the sound of a mountain cataract 

Throwing its silver breath 

Like a benediction 

Upon the upturned, waiting lips of flowers. 

My heart trembles with thankfulness 
As shadow trees 

Quiver and murmur in the arms of night 
Like lovers embracing. 

My heart is like a garden delicately fragrant 

Echoing softly the eternal peace Chopin, 

Peace of music. 

Peace of poets. 

Peace of understanding. 

My heart is radiant with song. 
Sweet song — song of the Christ Child, 
And its words are these: 
"I love you." 



34 



SUNSET 

Folding the sea within a smile divine 
The sun sank in a maze of majesty, 
Brimming the ocean rim with Godly wine. 

Wine turned to amber on the pulsing deep, 
A saffron glow and then a withered gray. 
Dark shadows fell and found the sea asleep. 



35 



IN THE DISTANCE 

Peaceful walks through the tremulous heart of the 

woodland, 
Love and hope in the nod of each sun-kissed flower, 
Time when the smile on your lips was my shrine 

of devotion : 
All in the distance. 

Memory of days when blossoms of spring seemed 

eternal, 
Whispering hopes now lost in the depths of the 

forest. 
Only the dream of your face and an echo of laughter 
Left to console me. 



36 



PEACE AFTER PRAYER 

Pale tapers on the altar, burning dim, 

Threw lonely shadows on a crucifix 

Of Him 

Who suffered death to save his fellow men. 

Kneeling before the candles' ebbing glow. 
Whose amber rays fell ghostly on his face, 
A form bent low 
"In penance and in prayer. 

Gently the even breezes, southward bent, 
Crept up the somber passage from the door 
And flames sent 
Lean, gaunt shadows hastening to and fro. 

A sudden gust blew all the tapers out 

And darkness fell around the praying form. 

While all about 

The fragrance of sweet incense filled the room. 

But though all earthly light had faded low, 
The unseen love and light of God was there, 
For all men know 
The sad, sweet peace that follows after prayer. 

And strains of music of the long ago 
Returned again to charm the listener's ear: 
And kneeling so 
A silent benediction filled his heart. 



37 



YOU NEVER KNEW 

You are the sweet dream of a faded hour, 
A happy hour too quickly sped away 
When I beheld in the fairest flower 
Of yesterday. 

And yet I know the future will deny 
A dearer time than that I spent with you 
And I am sad to think you passed me by 
And never knew. 



38 



LOVE'S HOUR 

You are the dream of one immortal hour 
When youth and love and you and I were one : 
A time so short I found it passed forever 
Ere yet begun. 

Since then night with its host of deathless stars- 
Each one a sacred memory to me — 
flas held its sway and every hour has been 
Eternity. 



39 



TO A FRIEND 

Life holds unnumbered joys for me: 
Freshness of water and the warm smell of food. 
Deep forest paths and twilight solitude, 
Comfort of houses ; the ease of a rocking chair. 
Moonbeams and starlight and the breath of a 
woman's hair. 

Cleanness I love and the fresh faint smell of soap. 
Flowers' scent and the pungent, deep-voiced sea, 
The sun as it sets in a rope of heliotrope : 
All these bring peace and happiness to me. 

Yet far above each of these welcome things 
I hold the comfort that your friendship brings. 



40 



SWEET CONTENTMENT 

Soft music and a dream of you, 
The perfumed breath of virgin Spring, 
An amber moon hung in the sky 
And breezes gently whispering. 

These tokens of contentment known 
But in Youth*s transient age 
Are like autumnal flowers blown, 
Whose fragrance is their heritage. 



41 



SONG OF THE LEAVES 

Winter is coming. 
How do I know? 
The scurrying leaves 
Have told me so. 

They hadn't much time 
To stop their play 
For they knew Jack Frost 
Was on his way: 

But as they capered 
And danced in glee 
They whispered softly 
This tale to me: 

"Oh, catch the sunbeams, 
Store them away 
To warmthen your heart 
Each Winter's day. 

"Gather the incense 
Of dying leaves 
To breathe when the snow 
Hangs from the eaves. 

"And drink of the wine 
On South Wind's breath, 
For Winter's coming 
Brings Summer's death." 

Then they hastened by, 
Soft echoes fell, 
And thus sweet summer 
Had said farewell. 



42 



Peace and War 



ARMISTICE DAY 

The world went mad with joy that hallowed day 
When Peace, with low-bowed head, 
Trod slowly down the trenches where men lay. 
Dead bodies heaped on dead. 

Laughter, like some spring stream through long 

days held 
Within its tomb of ice, 

Woke in the hearts of those who had beheld 
War's bitter sacrifice. 

Shout after shout re-echoed to the clouds, 
Like children's voices through 
An old deserted house hung with gray shrouds 
Of dreams that were untrue. 

Peace ! Yet with all our songs each heart returned 
To graves ungarlanded. 

Where other men long days before had earned 
The great peace of the dead. 



45 



BETHLEHEM STAR 
(Christmas, 1919) 

I followed the star the shepherds 

Watched burn in the ancient skies 

Till it led beyond the earth rim 

Where the flaming Sun God dies, 

Past fields where sacred blood had flowed 

Like sacrificial wine, 

The star passed o'er — but stopped where forms 

Stretched out in endless line. 

Rage tore me as my eyes beheld 
What wounds their bodies showed, 
And yet I marveled how each face 
With sweet compassion glowed. 

And as the shepherds old were led 
To the new-born Saviour's side, 
The Bethlehem star had guided me 
Where saviors of men had died. 



46 



THANKSGIVING PRAYER 

(To One Who Died in France) 

He dines today among the hosts 
Of ever-living dead ; 
He feasts beside the throne of One 
With thorns upon His head. 

Yet though his loss be hard to bear, 
My heart is proud that he is there, 
And offers thanks in silent prayer. 



MEMORIAL DAY 

We can not lay 

Rose wreaths today 

Upon the graves of our's who lie 

So silently beneath the sky 

Of flower-blooming France. 

We can not kneel. 

Or prostrate feel 

That bitter-sweet of still commune 

With those whom God hath called so soon 

To their deliverance. 

Yet even though we may not place 

A wreath above each sleeping face. 

We shall not fail one single cross, 

Symbolic of our sacred loss : 

Our prayers, our tears shall span the wave, 

Our hearts shall visit every grave. 

47 



SEA SONG 

Warring days have drifted by, 
Ships grow dim against the sky 
As the sailors are returning 
To the firesides of their yearning. 

But as years turn men to dreaming, 

So they, too, will see steel gleaming, 

Ghostly ships loom in the darkness 

Where the moonbeams clothe their starkness 

With a raiment silver spangled, 

Through the breathing waves entangled : 

Hear the clear voiced bugles calling 

And their echo softly falling 

Where the stars like tears of gladness 

Sparkle with a human sadness. 

Sailor lads are fast returning 
To the loved ones of their yearning : 
Yet within their hearts they'll be 
Wedded always to the sea. 



48 



TWO AUTUMNS 

An autumn once in France I knew 
When flowers bloomed and skies were blue 
And ruddy peasants in the fields 
Toiled for the spoils the rich earth yields: 
An autumn that exhaled sweet peace, 
Foretold the granaries increase. 

But when another autumn came 
These homely lands were not the same : 
Brave hearts wept at the heathen scene 
Of chaos where sweet peace had been. 
War's bludgeon held its temporal sway, 
Death, anguish, rapine ruled the day, 
The fields of rye were scorched and dead. 
Each gleaming scythe was dripping red. 

Two autumns now in France I know. 
One breathes of peace, the other woe, 
And yet the latter seems to be 
More sacred in my memory. 



49 



LEST WE FORGET 

(Easter, 1919) 

Our hearts with fulness beat for Him 
Who has returned from out the grim 
Black agony of Calvary. 

Yet let us not forget one prayer 
For countless crosses, grim and bare, 
Mute guardians of martyrs there 
Upon another Calvary. 



OUR ANSWER 
(In memory of the Tuscania) 

Bosomed within the sea off Ireland's coast. 
They lie — our noble dead — in lasting peace. 
Gladly without demur they gave their lives 
Unto the end that brutal wars shall cease. 

And what shall be our answer to the foe? 

More men, more guns, more ships across the sea. 

Theirs is the challenge : ours the solemn vow 

To fight until the day of victory. 



50 



REMORSELESS SEA 

Long days ago I loved the sea, 
Its pungent breath, the mystery 
Of tales it softly sang to me. 

Then he was here and days were long, 

And hearts were gay and friendship strong, 

For we both loved the ocean's song. 

War called — the haunting waves had still 
The power and charm to strangely fill 
My heart with peace and hope at will. 

But now I hate that once kind sea 
For it has snatched my love from me. 
With cunning hand, with giant force 
Showing no pity — no remorse — 
It thundered wrath and with a grip 
Of brutish love dragged down the ship : 
Down to its heart of black despair 
And holds my lover captive there. 



51 



Spring and Winter 



THE HOKY-POKY MAN 

Sweet Spring is here — of that I'm sure. 

Yet not because the first demure 

Young daffodil has raised its head 

From out its green-hedged flower bed. 

But yesterday I chanced to meet 

Amid the chaos of the street 

A hoky-poky man with cones 

That brimmed with cream of peach-pink tones. 

A thousand kids were hedged around 

To pay their cent and taste the mound 

Of saccharin snow — and then to aid 

Digestion with the lemonade 

Within the sweaty jug of ice, 

That summoned those who had the price 

Of one more cent to carry down 

The gutta-percha cone of brown. 

Oh, blithesome Spring is surely here 

When hoky-poky men appear. 



55 



SPRING OUTBURST 

I just can't make my pen behave : 

It simply won't keep still. 

I vowed I'd write no verse this Spring 

And yet against my will 

I scribble on and on and on 

Of flowers bright and fair — 

I simply have to write of them 

When Spring is in the air, 

Oh, springtime — time of song and Igve- 

I swore I'd pass you by, 

And yet I have to spring a verse — 

Just one or else I'll die. 



BOLD, BAD WINTER 

Winter, you are Bolsheviki, 
Craven, cowardly and sneaky, 
To come rushing from your lair. 
Tossing wild your snow-white hair 
And to catch us unaware. 

Blushing Spring had made her bow, 

Warmed us with her smile — and now, 

Out of season, out of place. 

You come blowing in her face, 

So that she — her form a-freezing — 

Flees away in fits of sneezing. 



56 



